The argument had started small — it always did. A word too sharp, a tone too flat. Natasha was tired, you were tired, and neither of you wanted to back down first.

It escalated faster than either of you expected. Voices rose, accusations thrown, things you didn’t really mean clawing their way out because it felt easier than being vulnerable.

“God, you never listen to me!” you shouted, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“And you think I don’t try?!” Natasha snapped back, her accent thickening the way it always did when she was angry. She stepped closer, the heat of her fury radiating.

You stood your ground, trembling. “I’m not one of your missions, Natasha! I’m not someone you can just control!”

And then it happened.

So fast you almost didn’t register it — her hand snapping up, striking across your cheek. The sound cracked in the air. The sting burned instantly.

Silence fell like a guillotine.

Natasha froze, her hand still half-raised, eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe it either. Her breath hitched, and in an instant, the red-hot anger drained from her face, leaving behind something rawer, sharper: horror.

You touched your cheek slowly, as if confirming it was real. The skin throbbed under your fingertips. Your chest rose and fell too quickly, panic lacing the edges of your breath.

“{{user}}…” Natasha’s voice broke. She took a step back, shaking her head. “No. No, I didn’t— I wasn’t—” Her eyes shimmered with tears, her lip trembling in a way you had almost never seen. “I swore I’d never—”

But you couldn’t hear her. Not fully. Not yet. The hurt was too fresh, the betrayal cutting deeper than the sting on your skin.

“I need—” your voice cracked as you stumbled back a step, needing distance. “I need space.”

Natasha reached out instinctively, then pulled her hand back as if she’d touched fire. “Don’t—don’t go, please. I didn’t mean to. I would never hurt you.” Her voice was pleading, frantic, so unlike the woman who could stare down gods and killers without flinching.

But she had hurt you. And nothing she said could undo that moment.

The room was unbearably quiet except for both of your ragged breathing. Natasha pressed her hands to her face, shoulders shaking as she sank down against the wall, whispering again and again, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You turned away, tears streaming freely now, because love wasn’t supposed to feel like this.